The word 'solstice' derives from the Latin word for 'sun' (sol), and 'sistere' (to stand still). It is when the Sun is farthest north or south in the sky, and happens two times each year. At the summer solstice, the day is longest and the night is shortest.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

We were married. Not in a chapel, or on a beach, or in a small hideaway room. In the Great Hall. It was a ceremony fit for royals - my parents had insisted on it. If they could not help their son marrying a half-blood, they would make it the grandest event everyone has ever attended in the last decade.

There was a knock on my room door just as I pulled on my jacket, and I called for them to come in. Cedric entered, looking handsome in a no-frills black suit.

"Malfoy," he greeted me like an old friend. "Just wanted to congratulate you." To my horror, he breezed over and hugged me. Not knowing how to reject it, I stood there and let him, absolutely petrified. "Angel Dawson, huh? Who would've thought!" He patted my shoulder and turned to leave.

I could not help but wonder how he felt about congratulating the man who was about to marry the girl he loved. I would've been gutted if Angel had married Cedric instead. Actually, I was surprised I even cared at all. Was this... empathy? Disgusting. But as much as I hated him, Angel would be six feet below the ground right now if it hadn't been for his efforts. And I did sock him in the jaw once. Hard.

"Diggory."

He paused at the door and turned.

I'm sorry," I mumbled. "You know, for..."

Cedric swatted my apology away and leaned in. "You know, Malfoy," he said in a low voice, like he was telling me a secret, "and honestly, it pains me to say this, but... I think you're more deserving of her than I ever was."

I stared at him as I digested this. He did not give me time to react, though. "Take good care of her, mate," he said with a parting smile.

"Thanks... mate." I added the last word softly, almost not wanting him to hear as the door shut behind him.

I stood, alone, in the room, wondering what just happened. I would never have been able to take a loss as big as this so graciously as he had.

Hufflepuffs, I thought as I tried to fight my smile.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Hogwarts had been transformed into a palace of gold. Its ancient pillars were draped in the burnished colour, and the hall was bathed in the glow from a thousand candles. They turned the ceiling into a night sky just as I had done for her many moons ago, the moving constellations prancing between planets and spiraling galaxies.

Below it, the guests were already seated, decked in beautiful jewel-toned robes and glittering gowns of gunmetal, bronze, and silver. Everyone who could be there, was. Even Pansy, Goyle, and Blaise.

And those who could not - Jacob and Grace Dawson, Fred, Lavender, Remus, Tonks, and Snape - had empty chairs reserved for them in the first row, each marked with a bouquet of white lilies. 

I stood outside with my mother. She was fidgety, faffing about this and that, smoothing invisible crinkles on my jacket. "It's a shame your father didn't want to be here," she mumbled, straightening my collar that did not need to be straightened.

"Is it really?"

She glanced at me, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in the beginnings of a secret smile.

Inside, Flitwick tapped his conductor baton on the stand, and I could hear the murmurs of anticipation die down. The strings and organs crashed with panache as elves swung the heavy doors open to allow us in.

Striding slowly at the head of the procession was McGonagall, holding her head up high. I followed some ways behind, my mother's black-gloved arm twisted under mine. The rivers of gold that ran through her heavy skirt and sleeves matched the ivory-gold vest under my jacket.

Behind us came our party: Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Luna. Gold sprigs adorned their lapels, shining like buried treasure against their jet-black suits and gowns. They had not been my picks, of course. I had given that liberty to Angel. I definitely still thought they were arrogant prats, but I was not exactly spoilt for choice.

When we reached the end, McGonagall took her place in the center. My mother leaned in to kiss my cheek, her eyes lingering over me for a second longer than usual before going to take one of two empty spaces at the front. Behind us, the three pairs forked and got into their positions, the girls standing on the right, and the men on the left, just like we rehearsed.

As we stood and waited, a sea of faces stared back at me. I dug my nails into my damp palms. To distract myself, I wondered how she would look like. They had wanted her in a heavy velvet dress of green and silver. I had insisted against it, but when I asked her what she wanted, she merely grinned at me. You choose.

So I decided she would be dressed in gold - for her house; and white - for her grace and gentleness. She would be adorned with flowers and leaves - symbols of kindness and that homely scent of hers which I so loved. Lastly, I had requested her face not be obscured by any veil.

I caught Cedric's eye, and he gave me a curt nod of encouragement. I was about to return it when the heralding fanfare of trumpets turned everyone's head to the open doors. 

The choir vocalised against the tinkling piano, smooth as silk and honey. The music seemed to form clouds beneath her feet as she treaded in.

An ornate coronet of gold leaves and crystal flowers sat royally atop her loose, dark waves. She wore her Yule ball dress, but it had now been transformed by the white cape that draped over her bare shoulders, its gold clasp resting just above her collarbone. A hundred flower petals and fresh blooms had been scattered over the translucent fabric, inset with intricate lace detailing. It trailed for five yards behind her, carefully lifted above the ground by Hannah and Susan who paraded in closely behind.

If I thought she was glowing before, she now seemed to shine with the fire of a thousand suns. I could not do anything but stare as she made her way towards me. Her fingers felt cool through her silk gloves as I helped her up the steps, and they lay her train carefully so that it cascaded down like a waterfall.

She stood before me, smiling like I was all she saw. McGonagall spoke, but I barely heard. The Hall and everybody else in it had faded away. I almost did not want to blink as I worked to etch this in my memory forever.

It all felt like a dream as McGonagall asked me to repeat the words after her. I would have frozen if not for Angel's fingers, rubbing circles firmly into my palms. 

To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. Until the earth stops spinning and every single star in the sky has burned out. Until the sun no longer rises in the East and sets in the West, and the world is plunged into a forever night.

I thought these last words in my head as she looked at me, and I knew she could hear them, because I was suddenly made of water and air.

The cheering was thunderous as Angel and I walked back down the aisle. George and Seamus cheekily shot fireworks out of their wands, creating little explosions of silver stars that whizzed and crackled over our heads.

Dawson-Malfoy, we were called. The mingling of a royal name and one that wasn't. It now branded me with something I had always thought was a disgrace. A war ignited with this very ideology had stolen more than any of us could give.

But what is in a name that truly distinguishes one person's soul from another? After all, they are merely letters, strung together in a make-believe word.

I do not want my soul distinguished from hers.